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Thursday, May 30, 2013

E.H.U.D.: Chapter 14

A LEGO facsimile of John's SkyCrest
loomed over his living room. The tower,
built not quite to scale, touched the ceiling, and John had begun to add the
smaller out-rigger towers the previous week.

He took a step back from his creation,
careful to avoid the line of paper taped to the floor, labeled “Trench” in
bright blue hi-lighter.

“It's not going to work,
John.” Alice's voice boomed from the
apartment's speaker system and echoed off of the central tower.

John bent and rummaged through a
bin of beige bricks; the one he needed had been there just a moment before.

“John?”

John stood and applied a brick to
one of the looping buttresses that connected an outrigger to the main
structure. “And I'm saying just do it.”

Alice sighed, the speakers
reproducing it as a rush of static.
“You're really not helping the situation, you know that? I've tried telling them that the balcony
isn't feasible, but they won't listen.
You just going along with it makes it harder.”

Another brick went onto the
building. “I'm not concerned with
feasibility. It's what the client wants,
so I'm giving it to them. The plans
reflect what they've asked for.”

“It'll only take a day or two to
make the changes, to get the balcony working, and then I'll go over it with
them, explaining why it won't work.”

“You're—you're not getting
it.” John bent under the buttress and
clipped a brick to the bottom.

“What am I not getting?”

“What the client wants, the client
gets. They want a building designed,
they get it. Whether it works in the
real world or not isn't our problem.
Just give them their fantasy building.”

Alice didn't respond for several
long moments. “You have to face reality,
John. You can't just make up what you
think is real and hope the rest of the world goes along with it.”

One of the buttresses was beginning
to sag more than usual; John grabbed it and squeezed the bricks closer
together. “Fine, whatever. Change the balcony. I'm sure the client will love the project
delay.”

“Screw it; I have more important
things to do on a weekend then listen to you be an asshole.” There were three rapid beeps, then the call
disconnected.

John bent down and rummaged for a
brick.

“What was that all about?”

Bricks scattered as John
started. He looked over his shoulder and
saw Rachel, dressed in flannel pants and a tee-shirt, standing in the doorway
to the living room.

“Just some stuff at work. The client has a design in mind that isn't
holding up to physics test, but refuses to budge on aesthetics. I'm saying leave it as-is and let the
contractors get through to him.

Rachel nodded and walked over to
the sofa; she groaned as she sunk into it.
“God, I love this couch.”

“Oh, hey, your dad called.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” John reached down and began gathering the
scattered LEGOs. “He'll be home in about
an hour. He wants to talk then.”

“What time is it now?”

“About two-thirty.”

“Shit, I was out for a long time.”

John nodded, half distracted, as he
noticed one of the outriggers drooping.

Rachel gestured the television to life
and began watching a mindless cartoon about anthropomorphic rats and chickens
rooming together in the big city. John
continued to build.

"Hey, I can I talk with you
about something?" Rachel asked during a commercial break.

"Sure." John dropped into a chair across from
Rachel. "What can I do you
for?"

"What I did... You know, the
riot." Rachel folded her legs and
stared blankly at the TV. “I wasn't
sorry I did it, you know? Last night,
after I got Tisha and me arrested, I still thought I did the right thing. I was trying to change the world, I was doing
something. Now it just... seems
stupid.”

"Is there a question in
that?"

"Dad thinks it was
stupid. Was it?"

“You want the truth?”

Rachel nodded.

“Yeah, it totally was stupid."

Rachel winced.

"I'm not saying kids like you
can't change the world, but kids like you usually don't know when to pick your
battles. Fight for what you believe in,
but don't go rushing in head-on.”

“Edgar did.”

John clenched his teeth. He wanted to keep the Defenders at arms'
length. They were polluting his reality,
and he hated how conversation always seemed to come back to them. “Edgar didn't know what he was up against. I'm sure if he had, he would have made
a different choice.”

“So what should I do now?”

John shrugged. "Live your life. Forget about politics, forget about trying to
make a difference. Excuse the cliché,
but life is precious; you never know when you're going to drop into a coma for
a decade. And above all
else..." He smiled. "Wait for your dad to get home and let
him handle it."

Rachel flashed him a sardonic grin,
then returned her attention to the TV.

An hour later Reggie stumbled in,
his scrubs rumpled and his eyes haunted.
"Fucking junkies... why do they always bleed so much?" He dropped onto the couch next to Rachel.

John crawled out from under an
outrigger and waved at his brother.
"You want food?"

"Eh."

John brought him a sandwich. Reggie ate in silence, watching TV with his
daughter. When the episode ended, he
gestured the TV off, and cleared his throat.

"Okay so... I called your mom today. She isn't exactly thrilled with your actions
as of late, but she thinks--and I agree--that it would be best for everybody if
you took the rest of the semester off and moved out to California."

"What?" Rachel's eyes bulged as she sat up
straighter. "For how long?"

"At least until the first of
the year. Possibly longer."

She looked as if she were about to
argue: she was leaning forward, eyes narrowed, mouth open. Then she saw John. He nodded, and she closed her mouth and sat
back. "Okay."

Reggie looked over at her. "Really?
Wow, I'm impressed. Thank you for
handling this like an adult."

John returned to his tower and
smiled. He was proud of Rachel for
picking her battles, but more than that, he was proud of himself for actually
giving out good advice.

"Now, um..." Reggie swallowed and stared into his
lap. "Aside from thinking about the
big issues, and keeping you away from all the stuff going on here, there is one
other reason we want you somewhere a little safer. Your friend, Raoul?"

Rachel stiffened. Reggie looked sidelong at her, watched as she
turned towards him. "I'm afraid
that... he, uh, he was pretty injured already." He sighed.
"Damn it, the doctors always do this part. Honey, I'm sorry, but he passed away early
this morning."

Silence stretched between
them. Rachel seemed to deflate, her
posture relaxing as she sank in on herself.
Tears were welling now, and she coughed, sneezed. "Oh, my God," she mumbled. “I killed him." She began to cry, her voice raising into a
wail. "I killed him, it's all my
fault, I killed him, killed him...”

Reggie lunged sideways, grabbed his
daughter, held her in his arms. She convulsed
as she gave into fitful sobs.

John stepped around his tower and
made eye contact with Reggie. He looked
so tired, so scared. John nodded. No words were said, but he knew that now it
was his turn to take care of a brother.